Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave
by boswifedeb
Summary: Summary for "Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave" "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive." Sir Walter Scott was right: that's exactly what Matt Houston and Michael Hoyt have to deal with when a distraught woman who calls Matt's office is found murdered a short time later. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

"**Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave"**

"**Oh what a tangled web we weave, **

**When first we practise to deceive!"**

**Sir Walter Scott****, **_**Marmion, Canto vi. Stanza 17.**_**  
**_**Scottish author & novelist (1771 - 1832)**_

****This story occurs immediately following "Flame Lust"****

**CHAPTER 1**

"Houston Investigations, may I help you?" Chris Atwater answered the phone while balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of papers that she was about to take in to CJ's office.

"May I speak to Mr. Houston, please?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded like it belonged to a woman – and she was crying.

"Which Mr. Houston – Roy or Matt?" She set down the cup of coffee.

"I don't care – I just need to talk to someone about my husband." The woman went into a fit of hysterics.

"Alright – hold for just a minute, please." Chris walked into CJ's office where Matt and Roy along with CJ were going over the proposal that Roy had put together for a chain of jewelry stores. He wanted to be sure that he hadn't missed anything that they would require to complete the jobs.

"Uncle Roy, I'm sure you've got it all. As many times as you've gone over the list you would have spotted it if something was missing." He was a little surprised at how worried his uncle was about the deal.

"Excuse me, but there's a caller on line three wanting to speak to Mr. Houston – and she doesn't care which one…by the way: she's crying." Chris put the stack of papers on CJ's desk as the two men exchanged glances.

"Crying, huh? Guess you better take it, Mattlock." Roy chuckled as he busied himself with the list of hardware that he would need for the installations.

"Gee thanks." Matt swatted at his uncle with a file folder and headed over to CJ's desk to answer and hit the speaker button. "This is Houston."

"Oh, Mr. Houston! I desperately need your help. My husband…" The rest of the sentence was a garbled string of crying and what Matt thought might be words but he wasn't totally sure.

"Uh, ma'am. I'm sorry – I didn't catch that last part?"

"I said my husband has been having an affair with his office manager and I simply don't know what to do!" The woman sounded like she was about to have a complete meltdown.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to tell you, but we don't take those kinds of cases. I could recommend someone if you like, but…" There was a screech from the other end of the line.

"But I checked around and everyone I talked to says that you're the very best…"

"Well I certainly appreciate that, but we don't handle those types of cases. I'm very sorry…" Matt shrugged at CJ and the caller hung up. CJ started snickering as did Roy.

In his best falsetto voice, Roy imitated the caller: "Oh, Mr. Houston, I desperately need your help!" He started laughing even harder as CJ pantomimed the caller by laying the back of her hand on her forehead and fanning herself with an imaginary hankie.

"Cute, real cute." Matt hung up the phone and sat back down on the loveseat to continue going over the list of parts with his uncle. After being sure that nothing had been overlooked they headed down to Ricardo's for lunch to celebrate.

Just as their orders were arriving at the table, Catey Rose was finished with her bottle and had treated the patrons of the restaurant to a couple of world class burps. Lt. Michael Hoyt walked up. "Hello, stranger. Have a seat and have some lunch with us." Matt grinned up at Hoyt, who wasn't smiling. "What's wrong?" He put his daughter into the carrier that was secured to the restaurant's high chair.

"That's a very good question." He slid into the booth next to Roy and ordered the chimichangas after telling Catey good afternoon. "I understand that you received a call from a Mrs. Frederick Hobart this morning."

"No, I don't think so…" Matt thought back. He had received several phone calls that morning but couldn't remember a Mrs. Hobart.

"Well, you did, because not only was your number the last dialed, she recorded the conversation." As Michael said the last part, Matt choked on the iced tea he was drinking.

"Recorded it? Ohhhh…" He looked at CJ. "That must be the lady that was having husband troubles. I offered…"

"To recommend someone else, I know. I heard the recording." Hoyt took a sip of tea.

"Why would she record the call and what's more why would you know anything about it?" Matt put down his knife and fork.

"Because Mrs. Frederick Hobart is now deceased. Thanks, Humberto. Looks delicious." He proceeded to cut off a bite of the entrée as Matt, Roy, and CJ exchanged a glance.

"Not so funny now, is it?" Matt looked at Roy.

"Funny?" Hoyt was diving into the food, but paused long enough to look up at Matt.

"Yeah, I put it on speaker – you said you heard the tape. These two...," he motioned to his wife and uncle, "…were making fun of it because she…well, it was pretty dramatic after all."

"Uh huh, and are you and your fellow investigators in the habit of making fun of possible clients?" Hoyt was absolutely deadpan.

Matt looked across the table at his friend. "Not nearly as much as we make fun of police lieutenants – especially when they've got a string of cheese dangling off of their chin."

Hoyt swiped at his chin and removed the cheese as Catey smiled at him. "So this morning was the only contact that you've had with the woman?"

"As far as I know." Matt looked at the other two who both nodded. He went back to his lunch. "So what happened to her?"

"She was shot – looks like a 9mm – several times. I counted sixteen bullet holes." Hoyt took another sip of tea.

"Whoa…so it was probably a fifteen round magazine and one in the pipe. Damn." Matt looked at Roy.

"Matt…" CJ gave him a disapproving look over his choice of language in front of their child.

"Sorry."

"Nothing says domestic dispute like overkill – pardon the pun." Roy took another bite of his lunch.

"You three are just a barrel of laughs today, aren't you?" Hoyt continued to declare war on his plate of chimichangas.

"So do you want some help with it – or am I a suspect now because Uncle Roy here made me take the call?" He looked over at his uncle who calmly took a sip of his drink.

"I didn't MAKE you do anything, Mattlock – you are the boss after all." He gave Matt a grin and went back to eating while CJ and Hoyt looked back and forth between the two Houston men.

Matt put down his knife and fork again and leaned back in the booth looking at his uncle for a moment before turning his attention back to Hoyt. "So?"

"So, you should be glad that I came here instead of Oxford. He wanted to bring you in for questioning." Hoyt cut his eyes up at his friend.

"Oxford can kiss…" Matt started but stopped when CJ gave him the raised eyebrow look and cleared her throat. "Well he can kiss a pig." He looked back at his wife who rolled her eyes and went back to her lunch.

"Uh huh – and in some circles that would be considered animal abuse." Hoyt made the comment without missing a beat.

Roy patted him on the shoulder. "Excellent timing, Michael."

"Thank you." Hoyt had nearly finished his lunch.

"So?" Matt repeated the question.

"I guess if you think you can do the job without making fun of the poor dead woman you can tag along."

"Make fun…?" The private investigator gave a growl and started back in on his lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

As he rode shotgun in Michael's car, Matt didn't have much to say, which was extremely rare. After several tedious minutes of silence, the lieutenant stopped at a light and looked over at his friend. "Is everything okay?" Cutting his eyes over at Michael, Matt nodded but said nothing. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. Just thinking. Why in the hell did Oxford think that I needed to be brought in for questioning? There was absolutely nothing on that tape that was incriminating in any way."

"Well, let's see. Reason number one is that he hates you. Reason number two…refer to reason number one." Hoyt turned into the drive of a home in the 2600 block of Carman Crest Drive in the Hollywood Hills area. The patrolman stationed at the gate was none other than Larry Carlisle, a long-time cop and a good friend of Matt.

"Hey, did ya bring him in for questioning, Lieutenant?" Larry laughed as Matt rolled his eyes. "He looks pretty guilty to me – better slap the cuffs on him."

"Nah – CJ might get mad." Matt wiggled his eyebrows and sent Larry into peals of laughter while Hoyt just shook his head.

"I'm going to tell her you said that." The lieutenant looked at Matt.

"Okay, go for it." The private eye winked at the sergeant and Hoyt pulled on up the driveway. As the two men exited the car, Det. John Oxford walked out onto the patio and glared at Matt with undisguised hatred. Matt decided to completely ignore the man. "So you say it was sixteen shots?"

Hoyt knew full well that Matt was only asking him to keep from having to talk to Oxford. "Yeah, that's it. Have a look." He led the way into the house.

After the door was closed, Matt shook his head. "I sure hope he doesn't think he was being subtle."

Hoyt snickered and then walked his friend through the entryway, past the living room and out through the kitchen to the back patio and pool area.

"Well that certainly is a unique pool." Matt gave out a low whistle. "Never seen one shaped like a foot before."

"The husband is a podiatrist." Hoyt turned to the left to lead Matt to where the body had been found.

"Guess he kinda brings his work home with him, huh?" The private eye waited for his friend to make some kind of comment but all he got in return was a big sigh. "And obviously this is where she was found." He had followed Hoyt to an area that was virtually invisible to any of the surrounding homes. "Who found her?"

"The pool guy." The lieutenant expected some kind of witty remark and was surprised by the silence that followed his answer. He turned to see what Matt was up to. Sure enough, his attention wasn't on the large puddle of blood on the patio, but on something in the pool. His surprise over the lack of remark was quickly replaced by another: Matt had toed off his boots, pulled off his socks and shirt, and was unfastening his belt buckle when the cop turned around. "What in the hell are you doing? You're supposed to be working, PI!"

"I am." With that he stepped out of his jeans and dove down into the pool, making his way to the bottom.

"How deep is this thing?" Hoyt walked over to the side and squatted down as Matt resurfaced.

"Got a pair of tweezers or something?" He waited as Hoyt began digging through his pockets. "Tell you what: look in the left front pocket of my jeans – there's a gum wrapper in there. Pull it out and flatten it."

"What are you gonna – ah hell, why do I ask anymore?" Hoyt dug into the indicated pocket and found the gum wrapper and straightened it out, then handed it over to Matt who took a big breath and dove back down to the bottom. Tearing the wrapper in half and using the silver outer part, Matt carefully slid it under what appeared to Hoyt to be a piece of paper. How the man had seen it, the cop didn't have a clue.

Slowly and carefully Matt swam to the side of the pool and up to the surface carefully holding two edges of the paper with the wrapper. "Got an evidence bag? I don't usually carry those in my jeans." He grinned at the look on the cop's face as the wearied detective reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a bag. Matt gently laid the piece of paper on the bag's surface. "Better not try to put it inside or Cheryl might shoot ya." He climbed out of the pool just as easily as he had dived in.

"How did you even see that?" Hoyt looked at the man in front of him. "I'm glad you did, though. Maybe it will be something important." He started laughing. "Now what are you going to do? You've got wet underwear."

"You're going to bring me a towel out of the house." Matt started walking around the pool, looking to see if anything else was in it and shocked Hoyt when he suddenly dove back in again.

"Ooookay, here we go again." Hoyt walked around to the other side of the pool to be able to see better.

Matt resurfaced and drew in a big breath. "Okay cop, we need a pen or pencil now." He grinned as Hoyt once again dug into his pocket and withdrew a pencil and handed it to him. After another big breath he dove down again and the detective could see him retrieve something from the pool's drain and slowly resurface. He had an evidence bag out and ready when Matt reached over to put the bullet casing into the bag. "Tell you what, while you're getting the towel I'm gonna cruise around in here and see if I can find anything else. And you might want to call the CSI techs back out to check the filter." He took another deep breath and began searching the bottom and sides of the pool.

After resurfacing several more times for air, Matt decided that there wasn't anything else left to find and climbed back out of the pool taking the towel from a smiling Hoyt and drying off. "Okay hotshot: you found one, possibly two pieces of evidence – but you've still got wet underwear." He followed the private eye back around to the side of the pool where his clothes were still in a heap on the patio.

After looking around to make sure that no one else was around, Matt grinned. "You might want to turn around if you get embarrassed easily." With that he dropped his boxer briefs and began drying off.

"Gees Louise! Houston, what if … never mind." Hoyt's head was on a swivel looking around to make sure that none of the neighbors could see what the PI was doing.

Less than two minutes later he heard, "You gonna stay there all day or are we gonna leave now?" When he turned back around Matt was already redressed and heading for the door of the house while fastening his belt buckle.

"Smarta…"

Matt didn't give him a chance to finish. "Better than a dumb one any day."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Hoyt and Matt went back to the private investigator's office. As he followed the man up the steps and into the main part of the office, the police detective was still shaking his head. "What I want to know is how in the heck did you manage to get undressed and then dressed so quickly?"

That comment got CJ's full attention which up until then had been on the large window blinds of the office that doubled as a monitor for Matt's computer, lovingly named BABY, that he used in his investigations,. "What exactly have you two been doing?" The bewildered look on his wife's face caused Matt to chuckle as he stepped over the back of the couch and sat down next to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Nothing much – I went for a swim." He looked over at Hoyt and grinned.

"You know, you're lucky Oxford didn't see that stunt that you pulled. He would have booked you on indecent exposure charges." Hoyt was completely serious.

"Hey, it was in the line of duty." Matt looked up at the screen. "So what have you found out about the Hobarts?"

"Annemarie Hobart was 43 years old and had been married to her husband Frederick for 22 years. He's a successful podiatrist. No children, no criminal records on either one. Nothing but a couple of speeding tickets for him and parking tickets for her. Their names appear in the social pages a few times a year – they are supporting members of the symphony guild, the theatre, and donate to various charities." She laid her head over on Matt's shoulder.

He rubbed her neck. "Okay, she said he was having an affair with his office manager. What about her?"

CJ leaned forward and began searching. "Oh, well…uh…" She pointed to the screen. "The office manager isn't a she – he's a he."

"Uh huh. Well…" Matt looked at Hoyt who just shrugged. "Okay, what do we know about this guy?"

"Christopher LaFata, 23, lives in one of those studio apartments on North Fuller. It looks like he's been working for Hobart for the last two years." She searched a little bit more. "Okay, LaFata got into a little trouble when he was a teenager for possession of cocaine. Got thirty days in juvenile and an eighteen month probation. That's it."

"Hmmm…" Matt rested his head on top of CJ's as she snuggled against his shoulder again. Kissing his wife on the top of the head, he sat and thought for a minute before turning his attention to Hoyt. "Have you been in contact with the husband?"

"Not yet. It seems that the office was never opened today and we haven't been able to contact him by cell phone. I've put out an APB on his car."

"Has anybody tried LaFata?"

"Not yet, but I guess we're about to, huh?" He stood and stepped over the back of the couch.

Matt took the piece of paper with LaFata's address on it and looked at his watch. It was almost 3:00pm. "I guess you and Catey will be heading out pretty soon, huh?"

"I think so. I finished up everything else that needed to be done."

"Okay, I'll call you when we get done." He leaned over and kissed her. "Love you, Babe."

"Love you. Keep him out of trouble for me, Michael."

"That's impossible – surely you already know that?" He headed toward the bar to pour himself some coffee.

"Is it coffee break time?" Matt had made it over the back of the couch and was headed for the office door.

"I'm just waiting on you." He poured coffee into a cup and took a sip.

"Waiting on me to what?" Matt kept right on toward the elevator.

"Well in case you've forgotten, you are missing your underwear." Hoyt rolled his eyes and CJ turned around on the couch looking at the pair and cracked up.

"Don't worry, Michael – he was in Special Forces after all." She gave the cop a big smile.

"Special Forces? What the hell…"

Matt stuck his head back in the door. "Ever heard the term commando?" He headed back toward the elevator laughing and causing Chris to look at him with a shocked expression on her face. As the elevator doors opened he just gave her a big smile and held the car for Hoyt who was talking under his breath. The only two words that Chris could clearly make out were "Texas" and "pervert."

Both detectives pulled up outside the apartment of Christopher LaFata and exited their vehicles, walking across the street and into the lobby. They pushed the button for the elevator and Matt looked around as they were waiting. "Office managers must make pretty good money. This place is not cheap."

"I was just thinking the same thing." Hoyt stepped onto the elevator followed by Matt. "From what I've seen so far I'd say it's a distinct possibility – unless he comes from money – that he's a kept man."

"So instead of something being rotten in Denmark, there's something hinky in Hollywood." Matt cut his eyes over at his friend, who merely rubbed his temples and shook his head.

The apartments were set up four to a floor with two on either side of the hallway and two on each side of the elevator. Directly across from the elevator was the door to the stairs. As the pair neared the door to apartment 403, Matt tapped Hoyt's arm. Clearly visible on the door was a red streak that looked like blood and the door to the apartment was ajar. Both men drew their weapons and turned off the safeties. Hoyt took the right hand side of the door and Matt eased it open with the toe of his boot. The two men quietly entered the apartment and began looking around. It had an open floor plan, but LaFata had sectioned it off with large wooden screens. After clearing the right hand side of the space which contained the kitchen area, Hoyt nodded at Matt who began working on the left side. As he made his way through the living room area the private eye noticed that LaFata's decorating taste seemed slightly Asian. As he approached the last screen, Houston detected movement on the other side and signaled it to Hoyt who nodded and moved in closer.

Although he didn't see any sign of feet in the four inch tall space between the floor and the bottom of the screen panels, Matt could definitely see slight movement. He worked his way to the end of the screen and turned to his left – stopping abruptly in his tracks, then moving further into the area. As Hoyt cleared the panels he saw what had made Matt stop: the body of a man hanging from the light fixture by a very short rope, swinging very slightly.

Matt checked the other side of the bed as well as underneath it then moved on in to the bathroom. "Well this case just got a lot more complicated." He put his pistol back into the back waistband of his jeans and motioned for Hoyt to join him.

"Oh, holy hell. So much for getting home at a decent hour." In the seven foot long sunken bathtub was the body of another man who had apparently slit his wrists. The red bathwater was circulating around the tub with the help of tiny jets that lined the edges.

"Hoyt, if I was a betting man, I'd say this was the doc and we already know that fella out there is LaFata." Matt rubbed the back of his neck and pulled out his cell phone to let CJ know he was going to be a while as Hoyt pulled out his to call for a CSI tech and the coroner.

When both men were done with their phone calls, Matt put his phone back in his pocket. "Before you ask, the answer is no."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not going swimming in there." He pulled on a pair of gloves as did Hoyt.

"I'm relieved to hear that. And yes: that is Hobart in the tub." Hoyt turned and was checking around the edges of the tub. "What is this stuff?" He rapped his knuckles on the floor and Matt squatted down to take a look.

"I believe it's a type of granite – kinda looks like it." He pulled a small flashlight as well as a pair of gloves out of his back pocket. Beginning with the section nearest the dead man's right hand, Matt carefully pulled on the edge of the panel – there were twelve that went around the oval-shaped tub, each with drain channels. The panel turned loose, and the private investigator carefully removed it, looking into the space underneath searching for the knife or whatever the man had used to slit his wrists. Hoyt began on the other side. After coming up empty-handed, they both moved to another drain panel, then another after that.

"Okay, unless it's underneath him – and I find that highly doubtful – where is the knife?" Matt stood and began walking around the bathroom. "There's no blood splatter on the floor anywhere so I don't think he threw it." As he passed the toilet, Matt noticed something shiny in the bottom. "Found it." Hoyt made his way over. "That's a stupid place for it to be." They both looked at the space between the toilet where the knife was, to where the body lay in the tub. "Unless he rinsed it off in the bath water, I don't think he threw it over here." He turned the flashlight and shown it on a direct path from the toilet to the tub. There were no signs of blood or anything else.

Hoyt nodded. "This is just…weird." While they waited for the coroner and the CSI tech, they went back to check the younger man that was hanging in the bedroom.

"What do you think – he weighs maybe 140 if that?" Matt was looking up where the chandelier was attached to the power supply box at the ceiling. "You wouldn't think it would be strong enough to hold him up – even if he is pretty light."

"Well, stop and think about it: this place used to be a factory. The ceiling underneath what you're seeing there is probably made up of some good sized planks. But as far as the fixture itself, no I wouldn't think it could handle his weight."

Matt looked at the man's hands. There was no sign of blood. He walked back out to the rest of the apartment and looked around before going to the door and looking at the smear that had first tipped them off that something was wrong inside. As Hoyt walked up to join him, Matt shone the flashlight on the streak that was about six inches long. "It's kind of got an upward arch to it, like someone reaching for the handle and maybe accidentally brushing the door."

"Uh huh. I'm going to go down and see if I can find their cars. Do you mind waiting here?" Hoyt had his phone out to get the information on LaFata's vehicle.

"Nah, go ahead. I'm going to look around a little more." He turned back toward the kitchen. After opening the drawers and giving them the once over, Matt noticed a knife block set on the counter. There was one missing from the set. The knife that they had found in the bathroom appeared to be the utility knife of the set.

Going back to the bathroom, Matt looked in the medicine cabinet, but didn't find anything out of the ordinary. He drifted back out to the bedroom and opened the door to what appeared to be a closet. "Hmm, I'm slipping. Shoulda looked in here before."

"Yep, and you're talking to yourself, too."

Matt grinned. "Hi Cheryl, how ya doin', hon?" He turned back to face his favorite CSI tech.

"I'll let you decide. I was just about to leave the lab and go out with my boyfriend for dinner and a movie." She made a face.

"Sorry, next time I'll try to find bodies earlier in the day." He looked inside a rather large walk-in closet. The interior looked like bamboo. "Holy cow – he's got more shoes in here than any woman I've ever seen!"

Cheryl stuck her head in the door and looked around. "Ohhhh, I would kill for a closet like this."

"Not a good thing to say at a crime scene." Hoyt had walked back in to join Matt. "Find anything else?"

"Other than enough shoes to start a shoe store?" Matt stepped on inside and began looking around as Hoyt stepped up to the door. "The knife that we found in the bathroom looks like the utility knife from the set on the kitchen counter."

"Okay." Hoyt walked into the closet and began searching it. "I didn't even notice this door when we came through here clearing the place. Guess I'm slipping."

"Yeah, that's what he said." Cheryl snickered. "I'm going to go process the blood on the door. Don't get lost in that closet." Matt blew a raspberry in response.

"So did you find the cars?" The PI continued to look through the closet's contents and had just opened a sock drawer.

"Yep, both of 'em. Thought you might want to head down there next." Hoyt was looking through the area where shirts and slacks were hanging.

"Hello, what have we got here?" Matt pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of an envelope that was addressed simply _"To Christopher"_ in what appeared to be a woman's handwriting. He waited for Michael to join him and then opened it up and removed the sheet of paper. Smoothing it out and laying it on top of the socks in the drawer, he snapped another picture and they began reading.

**Christopher,**

**I know what's going on between you and Frederick and I understand why. All I ask is that you please do not ask him to divorce me. It would completely ruin me.**

**Annemarie**

"Okay, so she already knew about it. It's dated this past January. Why was she suddenly so upset today?" Matt folded the paper back up and put it back in the envelope and handed it to Hoyt who put it in an evidence bag. "Unless Frederick told her he wanted a divorce?"

"We can sure check and find out." Michael shook his head. "You know this could be a murder suicide-type deal."

"Yeah, but that knife in the john just seems stupid if that's the case. It sounds more like somebody tried to flush it but wasn't successful." Matt continued his search but neither he nor Michael found anything else interesting in the closet and left after giving Cheryl the note that they had found.

Heading down to the parking garage, Matt was in deep thought and didn't say a word. He would have subscribed to the murder-suicide theory if not for the knife. Something just wasn't right and he kept feeling like he had missed something.

The door on the elevator opened and the two friends walked over to where the cars were parked side by side. "Matching cars, huh?" The two exchanged a look. Matt just shook his head. "Do we have the keys?"

"No, but we've got a locksmith on the ..." Matt slid under the front of the car, was back out and had the driver's door open in under five seconds. "Okay, I'll cancel that call." Pulling out his phone, Michael walked around the car to check the outside for any signs of blood. "You know, it's a good thing you're one of the good guys, because I would surely hate have to deal with you as a criminal."

Matt chuckled. "Thank Uncle Sam…well, for part of it anyway. I picked up a few tricks as a teenager getting into mischief." He was leaning into the car and looking through the center console.

As he moved over to the passenger side, Michael laughed. "I don't doubt that at all." He opened the door that Matt had unlocked for him and began looking through the glove compartment as he cancelled the locksmith. "Hmmm…seems like LaFata liked to collect tickets…both speeding and parking. There are eight in here." He pulled them out and put them into an evidence bag. "Nothing else in here that's…well maybe there is." He pulled out a small vial of white powder. "Looks like coke and I don't mean cola. Got the little spoon in there, too."

"So I guess he didn't outgrow some of his youthful mischief." Matt shook his head and knelt down to look under the driver's seat. "Guess he got thirsty, too." He pulled out a silver flask. "It's engraved." He turned it to show Michael.

**To Christopher – All My Love**

**Frederick**

"Uh huh. What do you want to bet Hobart paid for the insurance as well?" Michael looked under the passenger seat and didn't find anything.

Matt popped the trunk as Michael moved to search the backseat. "Oooohhhh boy….Michael, you gotta see this."

Hoyt stepped around to the trunk. "Who in the hell is that?"

"Well it's part of SOMEBODY." There in the trunk of the car was the headless and limbless torso of a man wrapped in a brown tarp. "He wasn't killed in the trunk – there's isn't enough blood in here for that to be the case." Matt took off one of his gloves and reached into the left front pocket of his jeans for a mint. "Mint?" He offered one to the cop.

"Yeah, now I know what I forgot to pick up this morning when I stopped for coffee." Hoyt gladly popped the mint into his mouth and both he and Matt began breathing through their mouths: the body was beginning to smell. "I wonder how long it's been here?" He pulled out his phone to call the coroner's office for the second time in less than an hour and to give Cheryl a head's up.

"Dunno." Matt put his glove back on and headed over to the other car and disabled the alarm on it and popped the door open. He began searching the doctor's car. After searching the console and the driver's side visor, he looked under the seat and found a bottle of Viagra. "Looks like the doc might have been having trouble keeping up with his younger man." Matt held up the bottle for Michael to see as he hung up his phone and walked over with an evidence bag.

"Umph. Anything else?" He sealed the bag.

"Not yet." Matt moved over to the passenger side and checked the glove compartment. "Aha, this is interesting." He removed a vial of medication and a pack of syringes. "Oxycodone." Dropping his find into the evidence bag that Hoyt held out, he shook his head. "These folks are just full of surprises."

"Aren't they though." Hoyt popped the trunk of the car and went back to see if there was anything there while Matt checked out the back seat. "Nothing out of place back here."

Backing out of the car, Matt stood up and looked at Michael. "Didja look under the spare?"

Hoyt lifted up the spare and looked underneath. "I'll be damned." He motioned Houston over so that he could see.

"Okay, so maybe that's the nine mil that was used on Mrs. Hobart." He leaned closer to the gun. "Looks like a Ruger P95." He started back around to the front of the car when something caught his eye: a quarter-inch long piece of white wire. "Uh oh." He dropped down on his belly and looked under the car. "Hoyt, this thing has a bomb under it."

"What the hell?!" Hoyt joined Matt on the garage floor to get a look. It was then that the pair could hear a very quiet beeping sound. They exchanged a look and both jumped to their feet. Matt ran over to the other car and looked underneath it to see if it was wired as well, then popped the hood. "What are you doing? Get outta there now, Houston!" Hoyt was backing toward the entrance of the underground garage.

Quickly looking over the engine compartment and then sliding back under the front of the car and checking from that angle, Matt didn't see any explosives. He moved back out and jumped inside the car, used a slim file attachment on his knife and started the car. Putting it into reverse, he sped out of the parking garage and parked the car in a lot a block away. When he came jogging back, Hoyt was blocking cars from entering the garage and had the bomb squad as well as traffic units on the way to close down the street and evacuate the area. Matt looked up to see Cheryl heading out the front door with two men from the Coroner's office and two gurneys carrying the bodies from the apartment. She was loaded down with equipment and Matt went up to help her.

"Never a dull moment with you is there, Houston?" She grimaced and shook her head. "I've got everything that I was going to take out of there, except for the door with the blood on it."

"Sounds like you were making good time. Oh, I moved the car with the body in it – it's over there. The blue BMW." He nodded in the direction of the parking lot. "It's toward the other side."

"Okay, guess I'll just go get started on it…actually, I think I'll just have it loaded up and taken to the lab. If that thing does blow…" She let the sentence hang.

"Yep, sounds like a good idea." He put her equipment into the back of the SUV that she was driving and headed back down to where Hoyt was filling in the captain on what was going on.

"Hoyt tells me this is your fault." The captain grinned as he shook Matt's hand. "Good find by the way."

"Which one – the body or the bomb?" Houston leaned against the car.

"Both." All three watched as two officers from the bomb squad entered the garage. In a short time, they had disarmed the bomb and were removing it from the garage.

Sergeant Brent Woodruff removed his protective gear and headed over toward the three men. "Cap, Lieutenant." He nodded. "It wasn't anything sophisticated, just a black powder pipe bomb – loaded with nails and screws." Looking at Houston he grinned. "We had about twenty seconds left by the way."

"So no rush at all. Great." Matt grinned back at him and they shook hands.

"Don't find anything else that goes boom – I'm starting my vacation as soon as we get back to the station." Woodruff waved at the three as he headed toward the truck.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Matt made it home to the ranch about 8:00 that night to find CJ and Catey Rose in his recliner working on the last bottle of the day. As she started to move so he could sit down he shook his head. He sat down on the adjoining couch cushion, picked up CJ as she held their daughter, and then slid over into the recliner holding both of his ladies.

"Well isn't this cozy." CJ laughed as he reclined the chair, kissing both her and Catey on the cheek. "We saw a really handsome guy on the news tonight, didn't we Catey?" The baby stopped drinking the milk and smiled up at her parents, causing both to laugh. "From what I heard you had a busy afternoon."

"Yeah, you could say that." He watched as his daughter's eyes went back and forth between the two of them as they spoke. "Lady Bug, you are just about the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on – except for your Mama." He nuzzled CJ's neck.

"Flattery will get you some dinner when your daughter is done. Unless you want to take over here?" She looked to her left where Matt's face was just inches from hers.

"Nah, this is good." They kissed and then he reached down and rubbed Catey's hand and she grabbed his finger and held on. "I think I might be on Cheryl's hit list. She would prefer that I didn't find bodies so late in the day." He chuckled as did CJ.

"So fill in your partner on the whole thing. I've gotta know what I'll be dealing with in the morning." She settled back into his arms as she fed the baby.

"Well, other than what I already told you when I called you earlier, there were several things found in the cars." Matt went on to tell her exactly what had been found and where. "And Hoyt called me while I was on the way home. Frederick had filed for divorce. That must be why she called the office this morning – although for the life of me, I don't know what she thought that would accomplish." He shrugged.

"It sounds like we're going to be busy tomorrow for sure." CJ slid out of Matt's lap and onto the couch cushion. "You want to do the burping honors – since you enjoy that part so much?" She grinned as she handed the baby to Matt.

"Are you kidding, I enjoy all of it…certain parts more than others, though." He took Catey and put her up on his shoulder and began to gently pat her back as CJ headed for the kitchen.

Matt awoke to the alarm clock the next morning. He looked over at CJ who was grinning. "I guess finding all those bodies and bombs yesterday tired you out – you slept right through Catey's 2:00am bottle call." They usually took turns getting up to take care of their daughter.

"Oops – sorry, Babe. I'll take the duty tonight." He leaned over and gave her a kiss, then went in and got into the shower as she headed for the kitchen to start the coffee. As the hot water hit him, Matt was thinking about what he needed to do that day. First off, he wondered if the lab had been able to get a DNA match on the blood from the apartment door. He also wanted to know about any prints that might have been found on the Ruger. There was a whole laundry list of things that they didn't have answers to, and Matt had a feeling it was going to be a long day. Back in the bedroom he went to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a dark blue t-shirt and started getting dressed.

CJ walked back in and as she headed for the shower, looked over her shoulder at Matt. "Gonna wear a pair of swimming trunks today?" She snickered.

"Nah, I'll just keep bugging the hell outta Michael." He laughed as he pulled on his socks.

Matt got to the office just before 8:00 and found Chris making a pot of coffee. After talking about her upcoming wedding for a few minutes, he walked out on the patio and pulled out his phone as he sat down propping his feet up on the wall that surrounded the patio of the penthouse office which looking out over the skyline of Los Angeles. Michael Hoyt answered on the second ring.

"Well if it isn't the Texas version of Jacques Cousteau." The detective sat down at his desk and turned on his computer monitor.

"Cute. How ya doin' this morning?" Matt took a sip of coffee.

"I was doing pretty good – then the alarm clock went off and I woke up." Hoyt rearranged the stacks of folders on his desk. "So I suppose you want to know if the lab has any results yet?"

"Uh huh – among other things."

"Okay, I have a preliminary report here from Cheryl with a sticky note attached that says that you are not allowed to find any bodies today after 1:00pm. I'm not sure how serious she is about that statement – there's a smiley face drawn on there." He chuckled as he opened the folder that the CSI had sent up to him.

"Not very serious." Matt grinned and took another sip of coffee.

"Alright let's see. Starting with the pistol: it is indeed the weapon used in the murder of Annemarie Hobart. The shell casing that you found in the pool was fired from that particular weapon. It came back registered to Dr. Hobart, although there were no fingerprints found on it whatsoever. Whoever used it wiped it clean."

"Have you gotten anything back from the ME about GSR on the doc's hands?"

"No, not yet. But…here it is, Cheryl had in her notes that when she swabbed his hands there wasn't any there. Of course they were in the tub when we got there and the jets were circulating the water. It could possibly have washed the gunshot residue off."

"Uh huh. What about his hair or face? They weren't in the tub." Matt as well as Michael knew that spouses were usually the most logical murder suspect.

"Not in here. Like I said, it's preliminary." He shuffled through a couple more pages. "She left me another note toward the back of the file saying that she plans on checking into the brand of rope that was used to hang LaFata today. Nothing back from the ME on him either – or Mrs. Hobart – or the torso that was in the car."

"Mmmh." Matt drank more coffee and thought for a minute. "Okay, switching gears…what about the bomb?"

"No prints on it anywhere, whoever put it together wore gloves."

"So no prints on the screws or nails that were inside there?" Houston stood up and began walking around the patio.

"Nope. According to the report from the bomb squad it could have been made by anybody that knows how to use the internet. No real skill involved. There was a watch being used for a detonator."

"And no prints on it either I suppose?" Matt sighed heavily. It felt as if he were just spinning his wheels.

"Nope."

"Okay, what about video surveillance in the parking garage?"

"We do have that on the way."

"Well that's the first good piece of news you've given me today."

"You're so welcome. What's your plan?" Hoyt sat back and drank coffee.

"I want to try to learn a little bit more about the players in this drama. Have you visited the doc's office?"

"No, but that sounds like a great idea. Want to meet there?"

"Yeah, let's do that…say in thirty minutes?" Matt swallowed the last of his coffee and headed back inside.

"See you there." Hoyt hung up the phone and headed toward the elevator.

"Chris, I'm going to meet Hoyt at Dr. Hobart's office. Hold down the fort." The private investigator hit the button for the elevator. "Oh, and when CJ gets here – would you ask her to check into the Hobart's financials, please ma'am?"

"I sure will." She watched as he boarded the elevator and was gone.

Matt was waiting on the tailgate of his truck when Michael pulled into the parking lot of the office building where Dr. Frederick Hobart's practice was located. They went in and found the property manager who rode up with them in the elevator. When they stepped out, there were four women standing outside the suite talking. "Good morning, ladies. May I help you?" Hoyt had surmised that three of the women worked there, but wasn't sure about the fourth.

"If you can help us get in to collect our things, then yes." The lady who spoke was of average height, slightly round, and had blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't let you take anything out of here just yet. We're just about to process the office. But as soon as the scene is released I would be happy to give you a call." Hoyt's statement was greeted with a collective groan. "If you would be so kind…well, I tell you what…" He looked at Matt. "How about we interview these ladies and then see about clearing out their belongings. That would cut down on the work load."

"Fine by me." Matt pulled out his notebook and pen. "How about we use the waiting room?"

"Okay, let me take a quick look around." Hoyt entered the door of the office and after not seeing anything that would be related to the case, he asked the ladies to come in and took the key from the property manager, a short balding man who looked slightly mad because he wasn't going to get to hear what was going on. He huffed off down the hall as Michael and Matt entered the office with the four ladies.

"I want to talk to him." The blonde pointed to Matt and smiled, leaving Michael shaking his head.

The two detectives each interviewed two of the ladies. Matt's first interview, the blonde, introduced herself as Stephanie Preston. "If I give you my number, do you promise to call?"

"No, I'll probably have my wife do any follow-up questions." Matt looked her dead in the eye. "How long did you work for Dr. Hobart?" The interview proceeded on without any further delays and after Matt and Hoyt saw that the property that the ladies were taking did indeed belong to them they locked the door of the office and began a more thorough search. While Hoyt went back to look through the doctor's private office and files, Matt started going through the computer and Christopher LaFata's desk. Although he didn't find anything out of the ordinary in three of the desk's four drawers, he did find the fourth one – a file drawer – was locked. He pulled out his knife and carefully released the latch on it. The front part was filled with the expected: files pertaining to employees, the bank account for the practice and other work-related papers. But at the back of the drawer were two lock boxes. Matt pulled them out and checked the locks. One was a standard lock and he easily picked it with a small screw driver blade. Inside were the petty cash fund and the accompanying journal. He flipped through the pages and all appeared legitimate. He replaced the cash and journal, locked the box up and returned it to the drawer.

As he removed the second box, Michael walked into the office area. "Buried treasure?"

"Don't know. The other one," he indicated the one he had just replaced, "was the petty cash and journal." He checked the lock on the second box. "Umh. This one is going to require a little more finesse." He pulled a set of picks out of the left back pocket on his jeans, sorted through the collection and removed one. After a few seconds, he had the lock opened and the top tilted back. Inside were two manila envelopes. Hoyt pulled a chair over and sat down next to the private eye. Matt pulled out his phone and took a picture of the first envelope and then carefully opened the metal closure on the back, dumping the contents onto the desk in front of him. "Ooookay." The two men exchanged a glance. There were several photos of LaFata and Hobart, each with a date on the back. The first few in the stack appeared to be at restaurants. After that, they were apparently at LaFata's apartment and the photos were much more intimate. Michael and Matt looked at each other again. "Why keep something like this here?"

"It seems odd. You would think they would try to keep something like that quiet, wouldn't you?" Hoyt was as puzzled as Matt.

The private investigator replaced the pictures in the envelope and then removed the second one and repeated the picture taking process followed by opening it up. Out slid what appeared to be letters and deposit tickets for a bank account. "I vote we save the letters for later." Hoyt nodded his agreement. Matt compared the account number to the one for the practice. "It's not the business account." He opened the ledger that was also in the envelope. "Hoyt, this is an accounting of what appears to be every penny that the doc gave him. Not just cash, but the car, the apartment's rent, furniture…" Matt flipped through several pages. "Even the dishes in the apartment." He sat the evidence down on the desk and leaned back in the chair. "Why? I mean, who would keep track of something like that?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know, but that's going with us for sure. Did you find anything else?" He stood up.

"No, everything else appears to be on the up and up. The guy kept records for the office that were as thorough as these." He tapped his index finger on the ledger. Replacing the contents of the envelope back inside the lockbox, Matt stood up. "What about you?"

"It looks like Hobart kept his personal records here – at least everything he didn't want his wife to know about." He motioned toward the hallway and Matt followed him carrying the lock box. At the end of the hallway they stepped into the office.

"Guess they shared the same decorating taste." Matt rolled his eyes. The walls were done in a dark finish and there were bamboo accents everywhere – right down to the fabric covering the chairs and sofa. He looked under the desk as Hoyt led him around. "I'm waiting for a damn panda to come crawling out of here." Grinning at Hoyt, he looked at the files that his friend had pulled out of the desk. One folder was filled with receipts: hotel rooms, dinners, show tickets. "What was the point? You would think he would get rid of stuff like this. If you had a mistress you would try to keep from having anything around that would incriminate you – right?" The private eye looked at his friend.

"I don't have time for a mistress – one lady is more than enough. But yeah – I would probably burn the stuff."

Matt pulled the folder closer. "Wait a minute. This says Mr. and Mrs. Taylor Redfern…who in the hell is Taylor Redfern?" He continued to flip through the file and found a picture of Annemarie Hobart and a man – not her husband – who appeared to be enjoying themselves at a restaurant. "This was him keeping track of her and her lover, Hoyt." He flipped through a few more pages. "Oh hell…" He pointed to the top of the page that he had landed on. There in bold letters Hoyt read:

**Terrance Simmons Private Investigations**

**Discreet and Confidential Services**

Hoyt rolled his eyes. "Maybe that's why she wanted to hire you…she found out that Frederick had hired Simmons."

"Well, he didn't hire much, that's for sure." Matt had a disgusted look on his face. He and Simmons had locked horns a few times over the years. The unscrupulous private investigator and Matt absolutely loathed each other. "Tell me: how in the hell has he kept from getting his license pulled?"

"I have no idea." Michael tapped the page. "This guy right here is a prime example of why I hate private investigators. Strictly amateur."

"Now that's not true – you don't hate ALL of 'em… you like CJ, remember?" Houston gave his friend a crooked grin.

"True…but she's about the only one." Michael gave a smug grin then got serious. "No, Simmons is like a cockroach – he seems to take the sleaziest cases possible and doesn't half investigate. He tells his clients what they want to hear. But I'll give you credit – you don't take cases like this."

"Yeah, well evidently I do now – your sorry butt dragged me into this one." Matt gave the cop a disgruntled look.

"Oh get over it. You've dragged me into a lot of things over the years. But back to the subject at hand, this was the only really interesting thing I found in here."

"Alright. Let's go back to your office and see exactly what we've got and where we want to go from here. Sound like a plan?"

"Yep." They walked out of the office, Hoyt locking the door behind them as they went. He put the lockbox and folder into evidence bags and slammed the trunk of car shut as Matt pulled away from the curb.

Driving through the LA traffic, Matt dialed CJ on his phone and turned it to speaker. "Good morning, again. Did you ladies make it to work without any difficulty?"

"Oh yeah, although your daughter was working harder than me – she filled up her diaper halfway here. I just got done bombing the Navigator with air freshener." The disgust in his wife's voice made him completely crack up.

"Uh," Matt was trying to speak but was laughing too hard. "I'm sorry, uh have you had a chance to check into the Hobart's financials yet?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did, Mr. Chuckles. There are some very interesting things going on there. Where are you?"

"On the way to Hoyt's office. We just went through Hobart's office and came away with a couple of interesting items." He thought for a minute. "Can you email what you found to me so I can show Michael?"

"I'll do it. Anything else?"

"At the moment, that's it. I'll be getting some copies of letters sent over there after we get back to the station. I'll let you know as soon as it's sent so you can go through them."

"Alright, I just sent the financials to you. You guys stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Yes ma'am. Love you, Babe."

"Love you, Cowboy. 'Bye." She hung up and looked over at her daughter who was sitting in her bouncy seat. "Okay, Catey – we'll have work to do in a little bit." The baby smiled and cooed.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Matt and Hoyt rode up together in the elevator. "CJ's sending what she found on the financials to my email."

"Good. And how is Miss Catey Rose today?"

"Well, I guess the best word to use would be smelly." He explained his answer and Hoyt laughed until he was near tears. As they stepped off of the elevator all of the cops in the office were looking strangely at the lieutenant who had a reputation as being less than jovial. Both detectives stopped for a cup of coffee before going into Hoyt's office and starting in on the letters.

"It doesn't seem like they're in any particular order, does it?" Matt had slipped his gloves back on as Michael called Cheryl to let her know what they had. She was on her way to join them.

"Not that I can see." He took half of the stack and handed the other half to Matt and they began sorting them by date. Cheryl knocked on the door a few minutes later. Each one took a stack. Matt sat down on the couch and made room for the CSI tech and the three pored over the contents of the letters.

After he finished reading each letter, Matt put them on the table in order. Cheryl was doing the same thing. When all three had finished, Matt looked at the stack he had in front of him. "Okay, so what have we got?"

"The earliest ones I've got are from last January." Cheryl waved the stack of letters in her hand.

Matt pulled out his notebook. "Alright Miss January, what did you get?"

"Well, it appears that they started their relationship New Year's Eve. Hobart's first letter is dated January first. He talks about how long it's been since he felt so alive…" Cheryl rolled her eyes. "In this one, it's pretty much more of the same and for these two. That takes care of January. Now in February, it looks like they had a fight. Right before Valentine's Day, of course. It doesn't actually give the reason for it, but…," she held up another letter, "…this one seems to imply that it had something to do with Hobart's wife."

Houston thought about it. "Bet I know what it was. CJ said they were big symphony supporters – the symphony had a big concert that night and she probably wanted him to go with her. Keeping up appearances, so to speak."

"Uh huh, more than likely." The tech nodded. "By March everything was smoothed out and they were happy again. Looks like they took a trip up to San Francisco that month. And that's about it for this stack." She laid them on the table.

"Okay, I've got where those left off. Everything appeared to be just peachy at the beginning of April, then there was another disagreement…this one over money." Matt shuffled through the letters. "It didn't last long. Apparently Hobart was mad about LaFata's getting too many tickets and the insurance on the car went up. Then they're all happy again." He flipped to another page. "And then there's this one here where Hobart is thinking about divorcing his wife." Matt stopped and took a sip of coffee. "I've got a feeling that this is what started the whole ball of twine unwinding."

"And he mentions it in this one as well." Hoyt held a page up. "Seems like maybe they had another disagreement about it, and then in this one…" he held up another, "…he agrees to hire a private investigator. So…" He flipped through the other folder and found the report from Terrance Simmons. "Uh huh, this report is dated about two weeks after this letter and the start date of the investigation is listed as the day after the letter was written by Hobart. Then this one…" he flipped through more pages until he found the one he was after, "…he tells LaFata that he's ready to tell her he wants the divorce, and warns him that it will probably get nasty."

"That's the understatement of the century." Cheryl gathered them all up. "Do you need copies?"

"Yeah, and send some to CJ for us, too, if you don't mind." Hoyt stood up and walked to the window.

"Alright, I'll let you know as soon as it's done." She gathered up all the goodies that the two detectives had brought back with them and headed out the door as Matt opened it for her.

"Are you going to try for prints on those?" The private investigator cocked his head at the tech.

"Well, I wasn't but I guess I could…" She looked at Hoyt.

"Well it just kinda struck me as odd: LaFata is so meticulous about everything, yet those letters were the only things out of order. Maybe someone else has already been through them? Like a certain private investigator who is on your naughty list?" He looked at Hoyt.

"Uh huh, you might just be on to something. Give it a try, please ma'am."

"You got it. I'll let you know what I get." She started out the door. "Oh, I almost forgot…the rope that LaFata was hanging by was actually one of the tie-backs for the curtains."

"Okay, thanks then." Hoyt sat back down.

"Did you get any epithelials off of it?" Houston was still holding the door.

"I did. They were running when I came up here. I'll let you know." Cheryl started out and then stuck her head back inside. "Five points to the cowboy for using a big word." She winked and headed out for the elevator.

"Humph…trying to make me look bad, huh?" Hoyt gave a scowl to Matt who just grinned. "Okay, hotshot PI, got anymore brilliant ideas?" He watched as the tall private investigator walked over to the window.

"Yep. We should go back to the Hobart's house and go over it with a fine tooth comb: check computers, files, all the same stuff that we checked at the office. I also think somebody needs to get all official and have a chat with Simmons – by the way, that would be you." He turned to look at his friend. "If I go it wouldn't be official – just nasty."

"Alright – divide and conquer. I'll go rattle Simmon's cage and you go check the house."

"We almost forgot something…" Matt walked over to Hoyt's computer and pulled up his own email account. "CJ sent us the financials."

"So she did." Both men leaned forward and looked at what the lawyer had found. "Looks like Hobart was keeping quite a bit of his income in his own account and only putting in what he had to into the joint account with his wife." They looked through the transactions on the account that Mrs. Hobart used. "And now I can't say as I blame him. Look here…" Matt pointed to several transactions. "Now we know why she got so many parking tickets on Rodeo Drive." He whistled. "That's a lot of dough to be dropping. Wait a minute…" He scrolled down the page. "Boston Brothers, Kelvin Kluge, American Sport…these are men's clothing." Standing up, Matt shook his head. "We haven't gone through the doc's closet, but the only one of these I'm willing to bet he wore was Boston Brothers."

"Uh huh. This trip to the Hobart's house should be interesting." He stood. "Alright, here's the key to the house. I'll be there as soon as I get done with Simmons."

"Okey doke." The two men walked out of the office and hit the elevator, then split up in the parking garage. Matt looked at the time: 11:33. Pulling out his phone, he pushed CJ's number and punched the speaker button before setting it down on the console.

"Hi there, Cowboy, how's it going?" She was feeding Catey Rose yet another bottle.

"Hungrily. I'm headed over to the Hobart's house to go through some stuff. Guess I won't be there for lunch." Matt pulled out onto the busy street and headed toward the Hobart house.

"Okay, I think Chris and I are going to order something from Sabrina's – want me to get you something?"

"No thanks, I don't know when I would be there. We're kind of rolling along here. I'll just grab something on the way. Hey, would you see what you can find on a Taylor Redfern? Love you, Babe."

"I sure will. Love you. Be careful. 'Bye." She hung up and put the baby up on her shoulder for a burp.

Matt swung by the Taco Sombrero on his way, and ended up having two tacos and a burrito grande for lunch in his truck while sitting in the Hobart's driveway. As he was working on wiping taco sauce off of his t-shirt, he happened to look up and see an elderly lady staring at him through the hedge that divided the Hobart property from the neighbor's. _Bet she doesn't miss much that goes on around here. _Taking a big swig of his Fizzy Pop, Matt slid out of the truck and walked toward her with a big smile. "Hi there." He pulled out his PI license and one of his cards, showing the license to the lady. "My name's Matt Houston and I'm a consultant to the LAPD. Looks like you caught me eating lunch." He gave her another big smile which funnily enough was returned with a bit of primping.

"I thought you were a policeman." She batted her eyes. "I'm Esmeralda Constantine."

"Nice to meet you." Matt shook her hand. "Did you know the Hobarts?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. They were…well, it isn't polite to speak ill of the dead…" Mrs. Constantine looked around to make sure no one was listening. "But I will say they were strange."

"Is that a fact?" Matt looked at the hedgerow. "Would it be okay if I came around there on that side?"

"Sure, just come on back to the patio and I'll bring out some lemonade." Esmeralda appeared to be quite delighted with the company.

"Yes ma'am - sounds good to me." Matt put the Fizzy Pop back in the truck and headed around the hedgerow and up the driveway just as Mrs. Constantine set the pitcher on the table. He helped her with her chair and sat down opposite her, taking the offered glass. After a sip he looked at her and grinned. "You make it just like my wife – perfect."

Thirty minutes and three glasses of lemonade later, Matt had learned a lot about the Hobarts and had been filling up his notebook with all kinds of information. He heard a car come up the driveway and park next to his truck. "Excuse me just a minute, Miss Esmeralda." The private eye stood up and pushed the hedge apart. "Hey Michael, I'm over here talking to one of the neighbors."

"Good Lord, Houston, you scared the living daylights out of me! I'll be right there." Hoyt had nearly jumped out of his skin when Matt's voice appeared right behind him.

Snickering, Matt walked back over to the table and sat down. "Lt. Hoyt will be here in just a second."

Hoyt came up the driveway straightening his tie and trying to look like he hadn't just gotten the scare of his life. "Miss Esmeralda, this is Lt. Michael Hoyt. Michael, Mrs. Constantine." After shaking the lady's hand and being invited to join them for lemonade, Hoyt looked at Matt as the elderly lady went inside for another glass.

"The working conditions you have to endure as a PI are truly deplorable." He grinned. "Been flirting with her have you?"

"No, the other way around, actually. Kinda good for the ego." He grinned and took another sip of lemonade. "Plus she makes lemonade just as good as CJ's – and she knows a good bit about the Hobarts."

Mrs. Constantine returned then and poured a glass for Michael and offered Matt a refill. "No ma'am, but thank you. It really is good." After helping her with her chair again, Matt sat back down next to Hoyt. "Would you mind telling Michael what you were telling me when he pulled up?"

"No, not at all. Well like I was saying, you could hear the pair of them over there fighting at least two or three times a week. And I don't mean little misunderstandings, either; they would scream at the top of their lungs."

"Do tell?" Hoyt looked at Matt. "Did you ever see anyone over there besides the Hobarts?"

"Well…" Once again she looked around to make sure she wasn't being overheard. "Mrs. Hobart went out of town last New Year's Eve…and Mr. Hobart had company – and it wasn't a woman." She gave them a nod. "And believe me – they weren't watching football." Matt had been taking a sip of lemonade as the tiny woman made the comment and he started coughing. Hoyt pounded him on the back.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Matt and Hoyt decided to split up once they got inside the home of Frederick and Annemarie Hobart. Hoyt headed upstairs to look through the bedrooms and Matt started with the computer in the study downstairs. After getting past Mr. Hobart's seriously lacking security measures on his computer, the private investigator began going through all of the files – quite a few of which were pornography. _This guy needed another hobby._ Matt shook his head. He sifted through the videos and then went into the documents section of the computer. The podiatrist had managed his finances online for the most part, making it easy for Matt to see exactly what he had been up to that wasn't in the information that CJ had been able to find. The doctor had opened an account in Mexico with LaFata and had been making regular deposits. Pulling out his notebook, Matt wrote a note to himself: _GO THROUGH LAFATA'S COMPUTER._ What he was looking at now was not the same account that he had found deposit slips for in the office manager's desk at work. After giving them a once over, the private investigator put the files on a flash drive.

His next stop on the doctor's computer was the pictures section. The doc had evidently thought himself sneaky: he had files hidden inside of files inside of files. Matt methodically went through each and every one. He found photos of Hobart and his wife from their wedding and on a few trips. They actually looked happy in the early photos Matt thought, but as the years passed it was obvious that the pair had drifted apart. The smiles in the photos looked fake and there were virtually no photos where they touched in any way, and the majority appeared to be staged: some for Christmas cards, others for charity events.

The next batch of photos that he found was of Hobart and LaFata. Some appeared to be the same as the ones they had found earlier at the office in the lockbox. Others were much more intimate. The last one that had been imported into the computer was from a week prior. They were toasting each other at a restaurant and Matt noticed a small blue box on the table. He zoomed in on the image and could make out the name of a well-known jewelry store and he could see a chain trailing from the box onto the table. It was sitting in front of LaFata, so Matt figured that it must have been a gift from Hobart. He hadn't noticed the box while going through the office manager's apartment but it could well have been thrown away.

After spending a little more time on the computer and not coming up with anything else relevant to the case, Matt went through the drawers of the desk and found nothing but files that had to do with household finances. He searched through the book case, looking not only at the titles of the books but moving them and looking behind them and under as well. When he hit the right hand side of the topmost shelf, Matt saw something behind the large volume of French poetry. Retrieving it from the bookcase he brought it down just as Michael walked into the room.

"Got anything?" Hoyt wandered over to where he stood looking at the small box in his hands.

"Don't know…"The PI opened the small thin box and found three flash drives. "But we're about to find out." He walked back over to the computer and began looking through the contents of one of drives. "Hmm…more pictures." He opened the first file that was dated ten years previously. "Aha…looks like LaFata wasn't the first boy-toy that Hobart was involved with…"

Hoyt pulled a chair over and sat down behind the desk. "I wondered."

"So did I…guess now we both know the answer. I don't see a name in here anywhere." They finished looking through the information on the drive and switched to another one.

"Oh boy…looks like the doc was a man of many tastes." Hoyt shook his head. The pictures on that drive were of the doctor and a young blonde woman.

"Wait a minute, Michael…that's the woman from the office…what was her name…" The private eye pulled out his notebook and went back through his notes. "Stephanie Preston. She's the one who tried to come onto me at the office."

"Yeah, it is…there are a lot more wrinkles now and her makeup is heavier, but that's definitely her." He watched as Matt went through the pictures. "Oh, your hunch about the doc wearing Boston Brothers was right – pretty much every piece of clothing up there." He motioned to the upper floor. "And there wasn't any Kelvin Kluge or American Sport to be found. Mrs. Hobart's laptop is in the sitting room just off of her bedroom. I thought I'd let you take a look through it. And I found a few notes from Taylor Redfern." He held up an evidence bag with several pieces of paper in it.

"So I'm guessing Mr. Redfern is the one receiving the gifts from Kelvin Kluge and American Sport." Matt nodded. "You know, I'm glad CJ and I got married." He removed the flash drive and picked up the last one.

"Well yeah, I would think so." Hoyt was surprised. "What's got you saying that?"

The private eye waved his hand around indicating the house. "These folks were living not just one lie, but a whole herd of 'em. I'm telling you, from what I've seen here, having a mistress would be too much like work."

Hoyt cracked up and then sobered when the index of the flash drive popped up on the monitor. "And there's the beginnings of the divorce proceedings. Who's the lawyer on there?"

"J. Campbell Masterton, Jr." Matt rolled his eyes. Masterton had made big bucks chasing ambulances and now was trying to pass himself off as a divorce attorney. "Guess he was getting too old to catch up with the ambulance any more, huh?"

"Evidently. Have you seen his commercials? Unnh, unnh, unnh."

"I forgot to ask: did you catch up with Simmons?" Matt had reached the end of the files and was placing the flash drive back into the box as Hoyt pulled out an evidence bag for it.

"No, no sign of him. The woman with the psychic shop next door to him said he hasn't been around in a couple of days. He's probably hiding behind a dumpster taking pictures of a cheating husband or something." Hoyt stood up and led the way up to where Annemarie Hobart's computer was located.

Pulling out his phone as he went up the stairs, Matt punched the number for CJ. "Hey Babe – I've got another one for you. Stephanie Preston."

"Alright. Do you want to hear about Redfern?" She pulled up the computer.

"Please ma'am." He hit the speaker button.

"Taylor Bronson Redfern, age 29, funnily enough lives about ten blocks from LaFata. He used to work as a tennis pro at the Hillwood Acres Country Club, but hasn't been there for the last couple of years. With Annemarie Hobart supporting him, he really didn't have to – she's been depositing money into his account once a week. Guess now that she's gone he'll have to find another sugar mama." Hoyt snickered. "Redfern did manage to acquire a record in earlier years. He picked up a couple of DUI's and one possession charge about nine years ago. There really isn't much else on him."

"Okay, what's the address for him?" Matt pulled out his notebook and jotted it down along with the information his wife had just given him. "Thanks a lot, Babe."

"I've got a little bit on Stephanie Preston. Do you want that now?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Okay, she's 41, twice divorced, no kids. She lives over on Vistaview. No record. It appears that she's a receptionist for Hobart. That's pretty much it."

"Address?"

"14358 Vistaview. Is there anything else?"

"No, I believe that's it for the moment. Guess I'll see you at home tonight. You girls be careful. Love you."

"You too, Cowboy. 'Bye."

"Hoyt, I've gotta ask you: what in the hell did Oxford do when he was here yesterday? Shouldn't he have been doing what we are right now?" Matt put the notebook back in his pocket and opened the laptop.

"I was just thinking the same thing." Hoyt didn't look pleased at all. "You know this is not the first time I've wondered about him. But I guarantee you, it better be the last or he's history."

"Whoa!" Matt suddenly sat back in the chair. "I sure didn't expect to find that…" He turned the computer so that Hoyt could see.

"Oh my Lord…that's Redfern isn't it?" The lieutenant was just as shocked as Matt: the wallpaper on Annemarie Hobart's laptop was a naked man.

"Looks like the guy in the pictures that Simmons took so I guess so." He began going through the files, but other than pictures of Redfern, there wasn't much else on the computer that had to do with the case. "Wait a minute…" He went back to the wallpaper. "Look here…" He pointed to a tattoo on the left shoulder of the man on the computer monitor. "Hoyt…this is him…this is the guy in the trunk of the car."

Hoyt leaned closer and his jaw dropped. "Son of …" He pulled out his phone and called Cheryl to let her know what they had found.

"Wow! Okay, I'll go over there and get a sample from his toothbrush or something. So how did you find out it might be him?" The CSI tech pulled off her lab coat and was reaching for her keys.

"He's the wallpaper for Mrs. Hobart's laptop – naked no less." Hoyt popped Matt on the back of the head as he snickered.

"Ouch! Not cool, Michael." Matt shot him a look.

"You two try not to kill each other – and tell Houston thanks for not finding any more bodies." She hung and headed for the parking garage.

Hoyt put his phone back in his pocket. "Let's load up the computers and take them to the lab." He headed back downstairs and Matt followed along.

Back at the lab, Cheryl was getting the DNA sample prepared to run while Matt and Michael were looking through the notes from Redfern that the lieutenant had found. "Looks like love letters…or at least lust." Matt chuckled and looked up at Hoyt.

"PI, you really do have a warped sense of humor."

"What about the video from the garage?" Houston had almost forgotten about it and was willing to bet that Michael had as well.

"Oh yeah, I've got it upstairs on my computer." He turned and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow, Cheryl."

"Yeah, I like that: tomorrow. Not tonight, okay? I've got plans."

The two detectives hit the coffee pot on their way back into the office. Hoyt exploded when he saw the stack of messages on his desk. "Damn it! How am I supposed to get anything done around here?"

"Easy pard. Look, you sit down here and go through your messages and I'll take a look at the video." He pulled another chair around beside Hoyt's desk and turned the monitor so that he could get a better look at the footage.

"Sorry, it's just…I swear. It's almost impossible for me to see anything through." Hoyt blew out a breath and looked over at his friend. "Houston, I want to thank you."

"Even though I have a warped sense of humor?" He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at the cop.

"Actually, that helps more than you know. Seriously, I don't how I would do this job without you around. I'm glad you didn't quit – but I wouldn't blame you if you did one of these days." He knew Matt had given serious thought to giving up the detective agency when CJ was pregnant.

"Not yet. Now, get to work, cop." The private eye started watching the footage and began taking notes as Hoyt shuffled through the messages and returned the most important ones. After ten minutes, he hung up for the last time and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, what have you found?" He turned his attention to the video.

"Hobart got there first, about 12:15. LaFata came in around 1:00 and left again about 1:10. See?" Matt moved the video to the parts that he was telling his friend about. "Alright, now here's where it gets kinda strange." He moved the video again. "You can see a shadow by Hobart's car, but the angle on the camera doesn't let you see who is there. I'm willing to bet that's when the bomb was put on it. Now at 3:20 LaFata returns looking kinda upset and goes upstairs." Matt leaned back in the chair and tapped his right hand on the heel of his left boot that was resting on his knee. "Their camera doesn't cover nearly enough of that garage – are you sure that's the only one that they have?"

"Yep, the one and only." He shook his head.

"Alright – here's my suggestion. Let's call it a day, think on it overnight, and tomorrow we go pay a visit to Stephanie Preston. Maybe by then Cheryl will have something else we can use and this thing will shake loose a little bit." Matt stood up and stretched. "Go home, Michael. Kiss your wife, hug your daughter, have some supper and a beer and go to bed. You look bushed."

"Getting bossy in your old age, aren't you?" Hoyt grinned up at his friend. "Actually, that sounds like great advice." He shut off the computer monitor. "I believe I'll take it." They both headed out and hit the elevator and went their separate ways in the parking garage.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Matt made it home in time that night to take Catey Rose for a ride on Cricket before dinner. The baby seemed to like horses almost as much as her dad. CJ watched from the kitchen as the pair made their way back up from the barn after spending a few minutes talking with Bo and Lamar, Matt's two ranch hands. As he came back in the kitchen door, Matt's cell phone rang and CJ took Catey and put her in the bouncy seat.

"Hey Cheryl, isn't it a little late for you to be working?" Matt grinned and winked at CJ.

"Well, if my boyfriend hadn't come down with a cold I would say yes. But since I don't have any better prospects for tonight, I decided to stick around until we had the DNA results back in. You were right: it was Taylor Redfern in the trunk."

"Wonder where the rest of him is?" Matt sat down at the kitchen table and took the glass of tea that CJ handed him, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her down onto his lap.

"Don't know. But I'd say that you and Hoyt will probably be checking out his home in the morning. Maybe you can catch what's left of him there." The tech giggled.

"And Hoyt says I have a warped sense of humor." He chuckled. "Have you called him?"

"I tried but his wife says he's zonked out in front of the TV. I figured it could wait until morning."

"Yeah, he's been having a rough time of it. Well I appreciate the heads up – and no I didn't mean it in a warped kinda way."

"You know, the line of work that we're in can sure change your perspective on things. See ya tomorrow."

Matt hung up and filled CJ in on what they had before reaching up and pulling her face down to his and giving her a long kiss. "Cowboy, if you don't want you dinner to be burnt, you better turn me loose."

"Decisions, decisions." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"We'll talk about that later." She gave him a quick kiss and went back to her cooking as Matt picked up their daughter and began giving her a bottle.

Later on that evening, Matt was swimming laps in the pool and thinking over the case. Since Redfern's body was in the trunk of LaFata's car, it would appear that he had killed Redfern. What was puzzling him was Hobart: had he been dead when LaFata first appeared at the apartment? He felt sure that Hobart had probably killed Annemarie… He stopped and rested his arms on the side of the pool and thought. _Take it back to the beginning, Mattlock. The doc could have killed his wife right after she called the office, then he went to LaFata's apartment. Who would have motive for killing the doc? _

Matt started swimming again. _Maybe Redfern killed the doc…or put the bomb under his car as payback for killing Annemarie. None of the other players really had a motive…that I know of. Okay, that's making sense. Now, LaFata…_ He kicked off from the other end of the pool.

CJ came out with the baby monitor and sat down in a lounge chair to look at a magazine. She could tell he was working through something by the deliberate way he took each stroke; she didn't bother him.

_Okay - LaFata was supposedly in love with Hobart…they seemed happy from what I read in the letters and the pictures I saw. Maybe he killed himself? I didn't see any signs on his hands of putting up a fight. That could be it…but the bomb? Who in the hell put the bomb in Frederick Hobart's car? _Once again he stopped and thought about it. Looking up, he noticed CJ had come out and was watching him with a grin on her face. "What?"

"Oh, I was just sitting here wondering if you were going to crack your head on the side of the pool. You looked like you were on auto-pilot." She laughed.

"Guess I was. See what you think." He pulled himself up onto the side of the pool. "Okay, first we've got Annemarie Hobart dead…I'm thinking the doc killed her – it was his gun and he had a motive. Second, we've got the doc himself dead in his lover's bathtub. I really don't think he did it himself…that knife was about twelve feet away from the body when we found it in the bottom of the john. Somehow I just can't see the man slicing his wrists and then making a good throw like that. So I think Redfern killed him for doing in Mrs. Hobart. And I think LaFata killed Redfern for killing the doc."

"And LaFata killed himself?" She could see the line of reasoning.

"Yeah, but what's got me stumped is who put the bomb under Hobart's car?" Matt went back in the pool and went back to swimming. When he made it back to the end where CJ was he stopped. "The only other person that I know of that might possibly have a motive is Stephanie Preston."

"Who is she?" CJ put the magazine down.

"She worked for the doc – and they also had a fling a few years back. We found pictures on a flash drive in Hobart's home office." He stopped and thought. "We were planning on talking to her tomorrow…and Hoyt never did manage to talk to Simmons."

"That should be pleasant…NOT!" She shook her head. "You know, I'm really kind of surprised that Hobart hired him. He's not exactly a high society kind of guy."

"Somebody else we need to try to talk to, and I'm sure not looking forward to it, is Masterton." Matt went back on his back and kicked off the edge of the pool, working on a backstroke.

"J. Campbell Masterton, Jr.? Ugh, he's about the sleaziest of the sleazes." She stopped and thought for a minute. "Hon, does it occur to you that Simmons and Masterton are kind of alike in a way?"

Matt completely stopped in the water and headed back over to CJ's side. "You know, you're right…I wonder…" He froze in place. "Hobart had Masterton for a lawyer and Simmons for a PI…and they are both bottom feeders…not to disgrace catfish in any way." He grinned at his wife. "You might just have struck gold there, Babe."

"I'll send you a bill." She picked up her magazine only to have Matt pull it out of her hands and throw her over his shoulder headed for the house – and the bedroom.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Friday morning at 7:30 found Matt stepping off the elevator at the police station. Michael Hoyt had just filled up his coffee cup when he looked up to see the long-legged PI walking toward him. "I got a call from Cheryl yesterday evening." Matt picked up a cup and filled it with coffee then followed Michael into his office.

As he sat down behind his desk and turned on the computer monitor, Hoyt nodded. "Anne told me that she called last night."

"We were right - it was Redfern in the trunk of the car; or at least most of him." The cowboy sat down on the couch and put his boots up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles.

"We need to go through his place." Hoyt had started making a list.

"I did a lot of thinking last night. Granted, I don't have all the proof but I think I've figured most of it out. The lab will have to confirm it." He told Hoyt what he had surmised while swimming laps and what CJ had added.

"You know, that makes more sense than anything." Hoyt took a sip of coffee.

Matt nodded. "This case has got more twists than Chubby Checker's knickers." He grinned as the lieutenant broke out in a case of hysterical laughter. "Easy there, Pard, you might strain something."

When he had finally collected himself, Hoyt took a long swig of coffee. "How in the hell do you come up with these things, Houston? I swear." Still grinning he checked for updates from the lab and the ME's office. "Okay, they didn't get prints off of the gun but those on the bullets were Frederick Hobart's, the blood splatter on his clothes that Cheryl found was Annemarie's, and they did find GSR in his hair, so I'd say your theory about him killing Mrs. Hobart is right: but I wonder – why didn't Esmeralda Constantine hear anything?"

"She wasn't there – she had a hair appointment and a lunch date with the ladies club. I asked her where she was that day."

"Alright, so Hobart looks good for his wife's murder." He went back to the monitor. "They were able to lift two good prints off of the knife that was used to slit Hobart's wrists: Redfern. How did he manage to do it without the doc putting up a struggle?"

"Anything on the doc's tox screen from the ME?" Matt stood up and walked to the window.

Hoyt punched a few more keys on the computer. "Aha! Yep, looks like he was the one who had a shot of the Oxycodone. Redfern's prints were on the bottle and one of the syringes that we found in the car. We never did find the car keys – I bet he took them and planted the drugs there."

"Sounds likely. Have you got anything else?"

"Uh huh. Cheryl just sent up the findings on the rope. Only LaFata's epithelials were found on it. The ME says there were no signs of struggle on him at all and he ruled it a suicide…" he paused and read further. "Yep, the only blood that they found on him was on his hands. He had washed them but there was some under his nails and it belonged to Redfern. Guess that happened when he chopped him up."

"And I'm going to bet if we go to Redfern's apartment we'll find a lot of blood there." Matt was pacing back and forth now. "But who in the hell put the bomb on the car?"

"I don't have a clue." Hoyt leaned back and swallowed more coffee. "Okay, let's go take a look at Redfern's apartment, then go see if we can rattle Simmon's cage and pay a visit to Masterton."

"Guess we'll have to – I don't know where else to turn." Matt finished his cup of coffee and tossed the cup in the trashcan as they headed out the door. "We also need to pay a visit to Stephanie Preston."

"Looks like we're going to be busy today for sure." Hoyt hit the button for the elevator.

Both men pulled up on the street outside of Taylor Redfern's apartment building and exited their vehicles. Hoyt led the way up to apartment 620 and the property manager opened the door for them. Both men put on their gloves before entering. "You need to stay out here, Mr. Allison." Hoyt put out a hand to stop the manager who looked shocked. "We're not sure what we're going to find in here." The man nodded and stayed put.

Matt carefully looked around as he started in the door. Although it wasn't quite as expensive as the apartment that LaFata had rented, Redfern's place wasn't cheap by any standard. It didn't take the two detectives long to find the rest of the former tennis pro. In the kitchen there was a large puddle of blood between the island in the middle of the floor and the stove. Centered in the area was a garbage bag containing the head, arms, and legs of the man along with a very bloody meat cleaver. Hoyt pulled out his phone and called the lab. He hung up and looked at Matt. "Cheryl says the DNA on the door from LaFata's apartment was a mixture of Hobart's and Redfern's. He most likely cut himself when he was killing Hobart." Sighing as he put the phone away, the veteran cop shook his head and looked at Matt. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me how cruel a human being can be…"

"You and me both, Michael. I understand him killing the guy, but what did chopping him up accomplish?" Matt turned and headed back to the bedroom to look around and Hoyt stepped to the door to take possession of the key to the apartment and to tell Mr. Allison that there would be more investigators coming to the scene.

After dismissing Allison, Hoyt found his way back to Matt in the bedroom. The PI was looking through Redfern's closet. "He was definitely the one that Mrs. Hobart was buying the bulk of the clothes for – Kelvin Kluge and American Sport." He went to the living room and looked through the desk, then to the laundry room. Meeting back up with Hoyt in the living room he stood surveying the home. "I still can't figure out the bomb. There's no sign of anything here that indicates that he did it."

"I don't think he did – but we sure need to figure it out. If it wasn't one of the folks who are already dead they may try again." Michael waited until two of the lab techs showed up to process the scene before heading out. As they rode down together in the elevator the cop looked at his friend. "So who do you think we should see next?"

"I was just thinking about that. Maybe we would be smart to bring Simmons in and uh…" He looked down at his boots then back up at Michael with a grin. "I think the department may have a little trouble with their phones and Simmons' phone may be lost for a little bit."

"So he can't call and tip off Masterton." Hoyt nodded. "I don't like stepping on someone's rights but…" His jaw dropped. "Wait a minute." He dialed Cheryl's number again. "Did you find any prints on the letters from LaFata's lock box?"

"Yeah, that's what I forgot to tell you. Sorry Lieutenant. Terrance Simmons' prints were all over the letters and the envelope as well as the box."

"Okay, thanks." He hung up as they stepped out of the elevator. "He had his grubby paws all over the letters. Now I've got a really good cause to bring him in – and lose his phone." When they hit the parking lot he stopped when he got to his car. "And I've got the perfect person to pick him up…" Pulling out his phone, he dialed an officer that both he and Matt considered a friend: Larry Carlisle. "Hey Sarge, I've got a special job for you…No, Houston hasn't landed in the hospital again…" He laughed as Matt rolled his eyes and kicked at a rock on the pavement. "You know Terrance Simmons? Uh huh, well we need you to bring him in and make sure his cell phone gets lost in the car for a while…yep, I knew you would love it as much as us…Yep, he's in on it, too. Uh huh, it was." He laughed. "See you in a little while. Thanks." Hoyt hung up and grinned. "He knew you were probably behind the lost phone."

"Why do people think things like that about me?" Matt made a funny face and headed for his truck.

"See you there." With that the police detective climbed into his car and headed for the office of J. Campbell Masterton, Jr. The lawyer had changed the location of his office a few years back. It was now in a nicer part of town and boasted a fountain out front. Matt pulled in behind Hoyt and the two walked into the building. Masterton had the suite at the far end of the first floor. They walked into the waiting room and crossed over to the receptionist who gave them a snooty look.

"May I help you?"

Hoyt flashed his badge. "I'm Lt. Hoyt. We need to speak with Mr. Masterton."

"I'm sorry to tell you that he's out of town. He's on vacation for the next two weeks." She didn't look like she was sorry at all.

"Is there some way that we can speak to him?" Matt found the lawyer's timing to be extremely convenient.

"No, I'm afraid not. He's on an island somewhere in the Pacific and there is no phone service." She gave both of the detectives a sneer.

"When you hear from him please have him call me at this number." Hoyt handed her a card.

"Oh, I'll be sure to do that. Good day." She picked up the romance novel that she had been looking through when they had first entered the office.

As they walked back down the hallway, Hoyt could see the gears clicking in Matt's head. "So what is the big idea you're gnawing on?"

"Mr. Masterton's office may have a visitor tonight." He gave the cop a sideways glance.

"I didn't hear that." Michael grinned and kept on walking.

Back at the station, Matt sat in the observation room and watched as Hoyt went in to confront Terrance Simmons about his fingerprints being all over the letters, envelopes, and lock box that were in Christopher LaFata's desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Simmons tried to play dumb. "And I still haven't gotten to call my lawyer."

"The phones are down right now." Hoyt sat down across from the PI. "So what were you doing in Hobart's office going through items that were securely locked up?"

"I was working for the doc, that's what." Simmons had no love at all for the police department and it showed. "Damn cops giving me a hassle instead of out arresting bank robbers and rapists."

"Quit trying to change the subject. Now why were you working for Hobart?" Although he knew exactly why the private investigator had been hired, Michael was hoping to catch him in a lie.

"Oh, for Pete's sake! His old lady was fooling around on him. Happy now?" He stood up and headed for the door.

"Have a seat, Simmons, we're not done yet."

"Maybe you aren't but I am…you're lying about the damn phones. And that stupid cop took my cell away. He had no business doing that."

"I said sit down…" Hoyt got up and started toward the man who reached for the door handle only to have the door quickly opened from the outside. There was loud SMACK as the door made contact with the sleazy PI's face.

Matt stepped into the room. "You okay, there Simmons?" His eyes said that he really didn't care.

"What in the hell are you doing here? I shoulda known. You can…" Simmons got up in Matt's face and started in on a tirade that was quickly replaced by a yelp as Houston stepped forward, bumping into the shorter man and knocking him backwards.

"The man said sit." Matt's voice had taken on that low gravelly tone and it got Simmons complete attention. He backed over to the chair and sat down, then recovered a little bit.

"When I get my lawyer on the phone I'm going to tell him to sue you, Houston. I'll own all that big company of yours and then we'll see how you like getting pushed around."

"You're way behind the times, Simmons; he doesn't own the company anymore." Michael chuckled.

"I bet the dog ate his homework a lot when he was in school, whatcha wanna bet?" Matt looked over at Hoyt. "So why were your fingerprints on the letters?" He leaned forward with his hands on the table.

"None of your business. You're not a cop!"

"No, I'm not. But I am a consultant to the department. And that is exactly what I'm doing right now – consulting. ANSWER THE QUESTION!" Matt's left hand came down on the table with such force that Michael actually heard the wood of the table top crack.

"NO!" Simmons was beet red in the face and was shaking.

"So why did you plant the bomb?" The cowboy walked around behind Simmons' chair.

"What bomb? I don't know nothin' about a bomb."

"You better come clean, Simmons." Hoyt was now leaning forward with his face about six inches from the man.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He glared at Michael.

Matt pushed a button on his phone and it beeped, getting Simmons' attention. "Okay, we've got it, Hoyt. The GPS track did the trick. It puts him there in the garage at the time the bomb was planted."

Knowing full well that Matt didn't have the evidence he claimed to, Michael played along. "Well, we tried to give you a chance to help yourself, but I guess you're just too stupid. Bet they're going to love you in prison." He stood up and closed his notebook heading for the door.

"No! Listen, I didn't do that…I mean I did, but Masterton told me to do it. You gotta believe me." Simmons was looking back and forth between Houston and Hoyt.

"Do tell?" Hoyt sat back down and began taking notes. "Explain."

"He got mad at Hobart. See, the doc wanted to divorce his wife, so he went to Masterton, who hired me to get the goods on her. And I did. So, the doc tells the lawyer to go ahead and file. But right after it was done, he changed his mind. Masterton was going to be out a lot of money, so he made the pipe bomb had me plant it on the car to make the doc think that his wife had done it. Masterton figured if Hobart thought his old lady tried to kill him he would go ahead with the divorce." He stopped for a minute and shook his head. "When I heard on the news that Hobart's wife was dead and that you had found Hobart and his boyfriend in that apartment, I got worried. Evidently Masterton did too, because he took off on vacation."

"Anything else?" Michael was tapping his pen on the notebook.

"No, that's it…but what kind of deal can you give me for cooperating?" Simmons watched as without a word Hoyt got up and followed Matt out of the interrogation room and back down the hallway to his office. Both could hear Simmons screaming as they went.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Matt was working with Lamar and Bo feeding the horses and cows on the ranch when his phone rang. "Hey Michael, what's going on?"

"Just wanted to catch you up. Cheryl and I went and checked out Masterton's office and home. We found the plans for the bomb on his computer and some of the materials that he had used in his garage. His secretary claims not to know which island he went to and swears that he told her he would be back in two weeks. If he does come back, he'll be up on charges."

"Good. Too bad we don't know where he went." He watched as Sophie and her foal grazed in the pasture.

"Uh huh, but at least it's all over. What are you doing?" Michael walked out of his office and got onboard the elevator headed for the parking garage.

"Well let's see; so far we've mucked out the barn and fed the horses and cows. Now I'm sitting on the pasture fence watching Sophie and Hacia Atras." He grinned knowing what was going to happen next.

"What did you name that poor horse?" Hoyt had no idea what his best friend had just said.

"Well think about it: what happened when she was born?" The foal had been a breech and Matt had turned her around while her mother Sophie was in labor. His daughter, Catey Rose had been born about the same time in the same stall in the barn during a tornado.

"A tornado?" Michael had been in Matt's house when the storm ripped through.

"Besides that."

"I don't know – she was a breech?"

"Yup – Hacia Atras means "backwards" in Spanish." He laughed. "So are you taking the rest of the day off?"

"Yep. I'm leaving now." He had just stepped out of the elevator and was headed toward his car.

"Good. You need to – now: how about you come over here and we head up to the lake to fish for a while?" Matt fully expected the cop to say no, but instead he agreed.

"Good idea. I'll be there in about half an hour." Hoyt slid behind the wheel of his car and headed toward the ranch.


End file.
